Ever heard of the phrase, “forced fun”? It happens at some companies, usually big, global multi-nationals, where they get staff involved in various so called teambuilding activities that, in truth, nobody can be arsed with.
It’s often a painful expenditure of time and energy, rarely resulting in any improvement in employee morale. While I still keep checking my watch for the start of the new CHAMPIONSHIP season, this World Cup distraction reminds me of the forced fun activities I’ve found myself pushed into at various day-jobs.
Obliged to take part, and hoping there may be moments when it will actually take my mind off the impending notification of our summons back to defecate on the Fulham once again, I’m still not feeling it. The Brentford links I found in the opening game haven’t been enough to make me return for any of the other matches so far (this is now 7.30pm on Saturday Night 14/6/14). I did spend a few late night minutes warming to Chile’s opening wizardry of Australia but soon started nodding off and dreaming of the return to Craven Cottage. I’m pretty certain I was talking in my sleep and asking, “are we nearly there yet?”
Currently, it does seem I’m the only Bee on this journey to the 2014/15 Sky Bet Championship who is poopooing the ‘fun’ being laid on in Brazil. There were particularly favourable reports coming back from the Holland Spain game but again, I’m just apathetic towards the current champions’ pathetic showing. It’s like I left the room where the ‘fun’ is happening and returned for everyone to tell me that I missed out on some amazing activity. Now if Pelayo Gomez had fulfilled his potential, remained on our books and replaced Fernando Torres in the Spanish squad, I might have been bothered. From the Vines I’ve seen, young Pelayo could have done no worse.
Vines? Ah, yes, I remember one more than any other: Rowan Vine. Pretty sure he’s now a Scottish resident (Greenock Morton is it?) so gets to vote on their impending independence referendum. My mind now wonders back to the mid 1980s when I actually wrote a letter to the then just Morton FC. Another potential referendum voter, Rowan Alexander, had returned to his native league having failed to build on the promise he showed in the 90 seconds of his Bees career, netting against Leicester City in the League Cup. His roly-poly celebration made him one of my favourite players and I was gutted he’d get no more chances to roll forward in England. Are we nearly there yet?
England? Ah yes, the forced fun, we really are expected to get fully involved with. The crosses of St George adorn car and house windows intending to stir national pride, yet all I see everywhere is that old kit and sponsor we had when Martin Allen reignited my interest in the Bees mid-last decade. It’s now about three hours before my nation kick off their World Cup campaign and I’m forcing myself to find some fun in Roy’s Boys’ efforts. I look at the number of Southampton players in the squad and think it is far from ridiculous to visualise the Bees development being four years behind the Saints.
I see Adam Lallana, a former member of the PFA League One team of the year, and can’t help but consider just how far our Adam’s career will take him. Forshaw for me is one of the best players I’ve seen adorn our stripes. I hope he continues to develop with us but will not be surprised to see him move on to a club already at the level we are heading for.
I see Luke Shaw, at eighteen, the country’s second choice left back. Having gone to school less than a mile from where I write this, I wish him all the best but can’t help wonder if he really is that much better than Jake Bidwell. I forget young Jake is less than half my age with his mature performances and wonder if his seniority over Shaw would have made him a better choice as cover for Leighton Baines. I’m serious. Are we nearly there yet?
I see Leighton and think of Orient. Poor Leyton Orient. Their fans will probably be seeing this international tournament as a bit of respite from their traumatic memories of the last domestic season. They will want to forget their trip to the national stadium and they will also want to forget that team from out West who celebrated like they’d won the FA Cup.
Maybe, to pass the time on this hellish wait for the Championship season to start, I should empathise with the Orient fans. Put myself in their shoes and fully buy into the Three Lions. The other way I could possibly get more in tune with my inner patriotism is imagine the World Cup is taking place a year ago. Maybe then, I wouldn’t be asking if we were nearly at the start of yet another season in the third tier. I doubt I would even have asked once, “are we nearly there yet?”
I shall take a break now because honestly, it feels like time has stopped. The kit anorak part of my psyche is now so impatient to see what the team will be wearing on their travels next season. I want to see the new away kit and I want to see it now. I look at Dulux colour charts and wonder which will match the shirt the most. Will we be looking at something bright like ‘Moroccan Flame’ or something dark and dull like ‘Sapphire Salute’? Yes, I probably do need help. Are we nearly there yet?
To try and get me in the mood for #ENGvITA, I have just watched Billy The Bee’s first http://www.worldcupfancam.com vid. Again, although he doesn’t mention Brentford, my thoughts do just swing towards TW8. With Roy failing to call up Jake or Our Adam, I like to view Billy and His Camera as Brentford representation for England. The other thing that strikes me is in the background to Bill’s first Youtube still, there’s a fella in a red and white striped vest. Even all the way over in South America, market stall holders are going nuts for Brentford(ish) tops. Are we nearly there yet?
OK, BBC woman has just said, “let’s do this” as she introduces the start of the programme. I’m going to give my best effort and promise to try and do this. Rio, Shearer and Henry are now going on and on. My eyelids are heavy as I was up early this morning. They’re discussing Pirlo now and I just see Jonathan Douglas in an unfamiliar blue shirt. They’re talking about Balotelli. I’m struggling to stay awake and my drinks consumption today has been mostly coffee with no alcohol. I hate to think how the Englishmen and women who have been drinking all day must be feeling. I don’t know if I can do this. My eyes are closing. Are we nearly there yet?
I’ve actually managed to keep them open and hmm, we’re now here at half time. I don’t have many Bees references either so maybe, just maybe, this forced fun is working. Sorry, I’m no more patriotic, mostly due to knowing my neighbours are and they annoy me. I’m sure they won’t have been the only household cheering at 11.37pm when Sturridge converted but, because we’re not the best of pals, part of me is wanting to cheer a similar finish from Mario Balotelli. IF, Italy goes on to win then I will also be so tempted to order a pizza for them.
I think about this for a moment and dislike my neighbours even more. I should be cheering that Sturridge goal as though it was Clayton smashing one past any of the Championship keepers next season. It’s just the pleasure I know they will gain from English success makes me see the white of their shirts blend into those of Fulham. When my tired eyes struggle even more at this late hour, I even see blue hoops appear on the white shirts. It should be the other way round, with white hoops appearing on the blue Italian shirts but no, I’m committing football treason and hoping for Azzuri success. Are we nearly there yet?
So half time and they’re now advertising Argentina’s game tomorrow and talking about that number ten, the Argie Alan Judge. I’m looking forward to seeing him in the stripes as soon as possible so before the second half of this game starts I’ll ask again. Are we nearly there yet?
Kick off and the second half soon sees that opportunity to cheer a Super Mario finish but I diplomatically remain quiet. Balotelli is now replaced and I wonder again how long it will be before Trotts trotts on for the full national side. I think back to the West London Sport report I noticed today suggesting it’s unlikely he’ll sign a permanent deal with us. I’m slowly starting to dislike Italy. If their star Under-21 striker wants to join some Italian Serie A or even B side over us then it won’t be blue hoops I’m seeing on those England tops but red, vertical strips. Come On England.
England now have a free kick. Leighton Not-Orient Baines draws a good save from the Italian replacement keeper and I’m starting to unite with my noisy, nasty neighbours. Come On England. We can get back in this, especially with Adam Not-Forshaw Lallana now coming on for Daniel Sturridge. Come On England. This forced fun is turning out to be, well, quite fun.
Oooooh, Lallana is brought to the deck and we have a free kick right in Sam Saunders territory. Gerrard leave it you dick. Leave it for Sam to slip over then get up and stick it past that pizza and coffee loving Buffoon-rather-than-Buffon between the sticks.
Unfortunately I’m reminded Sam didn’t make Roy’s 23 either when Stevie G sends it flying over the bar. Come On England.
Five minutes of injury time. We will get to 95 minutes. I’m sensing a penalty. I’m struggling to stay awake and all I can think about is a 95th minute penalty involving an Italian. Pirlo actually stands by a free kick. Is it Pirlo or is it Johnny Douglas? The Italian rather than the Irishman strikes the ball. The ball crashes against bar from the Italian. I’m really nodding off.It’s all over. Brentford, sorry I mean, England have lost. Shame. I’ve got involved in this forced fun and even enjoyed some of it for once.
The next game against Uruguay, who also lost tonight to Costa Rica, is massive. How massive? Current Staines Town manager massive. It reminds me of when the Bees were heading off to Brisbane Road last season and if England win, I don’t think the Uruguay boss will enjoy the celebrations. I’m looking forward to that game and this distraction is becoming more and more welcome. Yes, I’m still wanting to see the start of the 14/15 Championship season but for now I’m not too bothered about asking,
“Are We Nearly There Yet”?
Luis Adriano
